


Holding On

by Alexandrite811



Category: Tin Man (2007)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-01
Updated: 2011-07-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 20:26:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17629097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexandrite811/pseuds/Alexandrite811
Summary: Waiting is never easy, but sometimes its the only thing you can do."She waited for something… anything but the statuesque lack of response he was giving her.Second by second her hope floundered, and nothing hurt so much as the growing space between them when she finally began to retreat. She remembered the almost painful press of her eyelids as she kept them closed, and the too humid heat of the space between their lips.The air tasted stale, she’d thought, and the grief she’d been hold onto so desperately welled up inside her - it pressed against her chest, clutched at her throat.She choked on it, even as she fought to step away, the sound wet and desperate."





	Holding On

** Author’s Note: **

**This fanfiction was also posted on fanfiction.net under the author name Alexandrite Moonlight. Slowly shifting my works onto AO3.**

** Disclaimer: **

**I own nothing. I’m making nothing. The only thing I claim is the plot contained herein and the happiness I had in writing it.**

**___________________________________________________________________**

_“Hold on to it for me…”_

 

Slender fingers grasped the frayed lapels tighter, pulling them closer towards her body; shielding herself as much from the wind as from reality.

 

_“For me, Deej...”_

Dark curls fanned out further over the tattered fabric and faded brocade, as she hunched her shoulders and buried her face within the familiar warmth.

 

_“Keep it safe...”_

The ridiculously long coattails fluttered in the breeze that came off the lake, wrapping around her legs as if they knew she needed the contact; needed the support.

 

_“I’ll be back for it…”_

The familiar pain built up in her chest, burned the base of her throat, but she no longer cried. The only outward evidence she gave of discomfort was the slight shaking of her huddled form and the quiet gasping breathes she drew into her aching lungs.

 

It still smelled like him.

 

_“Just wait and see!”_

Even after two months in the open wooded air of Finaqua, she could still smell him on the fabric; earth and straw enriched by an undercurrent of sandalwood.

 

But time could still hurt, and she’d had far too much of it without him.

…

…

…

 

_The uneven rush of footsteps had come long before she’d seen him, but the moment she’d heard the slight stumble and trip that occurred when he had tried to slow down after reaching her door, she knew it was Glitch._

_He remembered to knock this time.  Barely, since he was pushing the door open before she’d even finished saying ‘Come in.”._

_Not that she minded, really, but it had taken hours of reassurances that she wasn’t angry when he’d walked in on her coming out of the shower. It touched and amused her how embarrassed he was and how scandalized he felt she should have been. He was more indignant for her modesty than she was!_

_But what she loved best about that memory was the thrill she’d felt at the appreciative glances he kept covertly taking throughout the entire process._

_His face was as excited now as it had been mortified then._

_“The alchemists have arrived!”_

_He was practically glowing with excitement and, even as the familiar weight of fear settled into her chest, she couldn’t help but let it infect her. She smiled and was ashamed that part of it had to be forced._

_“That’s great, Glitch!” Her hands had sought his almost frantically, as if trying to remind herself that he was still there. For now, he was still there. “How long till the surgery?”_

_“Tomorrow morning!”_

_The words practically burst from him and DG felt them slam straight through her, piercing whatever hope she had had for time. Time to remember, time to forget, time to talk… Time to confess?_

_“So soon?”_

_“It’s already been six months, Deej!”_

_She winced internally at her own selfishness._

_To DG, they had been six months of discovery, of trying to reconcile who she was now with who she had been born to become. She had had months filled with random bouts of mothers and fathers and sisterly bonding._

_Cain and Raw had gone and returned several times since the witch’s demise. Both had been busy trying to rebuild what they had lost over those last few years, but they had always come back. They may not have been by her side as much, but the friendship and warmth never diminished._

_It had been brilliant and wonderful, but it had also been hectic and tiring. She had been happily run ragged, and through it all there had been Glitch. Always there when she needed him, he had been the one constant in her life since it had been turned upside down. The one thing that had not changed._

_For her, those months had been some of the happiest she had ever known._

_She hadn’t considered, at least not as much as she should have, what those months had been like for her absent-minded companion._

_It had taken weeks to gather the alchemists. It had taken months to let them pour over the possibilities and medical considerations. Months more in order to plan the proper procedure._

_She remembered how every step closer only seemed to inspire further waiting. It had been infuriating to her - it must have been maddening for him. Yet, he’d never complained or pressed._

_Was it any wonder, what she felt?_

_He’d done so much for her. Given her so much more._

_She had had six months of Glitch; clumsy, forgetful, concerned, warm, infectious Glitch._

_She could give this to him._

_“Of course. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”_

_She hadn’t managed to keep her voice as steady as she would have liked._

_He just stared at her for a few moments, brows knit in contemplation. It was one of those rare moments of sober clarity, a trait that seemed to have lingered behind as a reminder of who he had once been. She watched as something like understanding flashed in his eyes, raised his eyebrows in shocked discovery._

_For a moment he understood, and she watched as one of his hands released hers, reaching towards her face._

_Pale fingers slid over her cheek, brushed at the dark curls that framed her face. She sighed against his palm, basking in the tender display even as she braced herself._

_It was enough that part of him understood; however briefly._

_She told herself it was enough as she watched his eyes darken and then glaze over. As his body went completely still and then slack, she chanted the words in her mind. They continued to echo while she watched consciousness brighten his eyes._

_She imagined it was how sleepwalkers looked when startled - irises thinning, then expanding as the pupils dilated; muscles contracting as they came to terms with their own weight, and the blank expression that never really seemed to shake off its confusion._

_If she were honest, it was a part of him that she both loved and hated. She hated the time that it robbed from them, hated that he would forget her, for even those few brief moments, but what she hated most was the lost and disappointed look that always followed after he ‘glitched ‘. Still, there were times she loved his ‘glitches’. She loved watching the way his face came alive when waking, loved the odd rambles that he ‘d detour through. She found it endearing._

_She didn’t love the fact that he had to fight his way back to her every time, but she loved that he did fight. It was a testament to his strength and his character._

_“Deej!”_

_And he always came back._

_She simply smiled back in answer. Smiled even as his eyes panicked and his face flushed. Smiled when he pulled his hand away from her face and stammered an apology._

_“It’s fine, Glitch.”_

_He seemed to breathe easier, but there was still an uncomfortable stiffness to the line of his shoulders._

_“A-ah, yes. Alright then…” he floundered and frowned for a moment before ducking sheepishly and giving up. “What was I saying?”_

_Some glitches were better than others._

_“Oh, nothing much… just something about the alchemists arriving,” she teased, watching as the memory and joy resurface. “And something about surgery...”_

_“Tomorrow!” he cut her off. “That’s right! Right brain meets left brain! Ambrose and Glitch!”_

_“What time is the surgery starting?”  She knew it was selfish, but she wanted what time she could get._

_“Oh,” he waved a hand absently, “it isn’t until two hours after dawn.”_

_Her heart thudded painfully with hope… but it was short lived._

_“However, I have to report to the prep room near the lab, soon. Something about monitoring my brain activity.”_

_Her smile must have faltered because he paused, losing some of his enthusiasm._

_“I actually, just came by to let tell you before I went down there.”_

_Uncertainty was creeping into his eyes and the last thing she wanted was for him to become hesitant now. After everything he’d gone through, he deserved this one moment of excitement. Tomorrow meant everything to him._

_She laughed because he seemed to need it._

_“Thanks for that. I’d rather it was you that told me and not some overly-clever and terribly pompous medico.”  Silently she entwined one of her arms tightly to his, walking both of them towards the hallway. “It would have been all temperamental yelling and vague answers…”_

_She shuddered and Glitch chuckled._

_“I’d have ended up guilty and shuffling, in front of both my moms for having injured medical personnel.”_

_  
“Just thinking of you, Doll.”_

_He always was…_

_“By the way, where exactly are we going?”_

_“I’m walking you to the prep room, of course.”_

_He simply nodded - in acceptance or agreement, she didn’t think either of them knew._

_All she knew for sure was that she wanted to be as close to the last thing he saw before surgery as possible. As much for him, as for her._

_The silence seemed to grow between them the further from her room they went; the closer to his surgery they came. She could feel it pressing in around her, squeezing her chest, filling her lungs. The pain of everything left unsaid between them wrapping tightly around her until she felt numb with the pressure._

_She wanted to scream. To rail against the injustice of it all. Cry for her own cowardess that kept her heart hidden and her mouth shut._

_“I know it isn’t necessary for the surgery and all,” her companion commented in a slightly pained voice, “but I was still hoping to keep that arm.”_

_“Oh! Sorry…”_

_Immediately she let go, unaware of the death grip she had had on the abused appendage and they paused as Glitch fought to get the circulation going again._

_“Better?”_

_“Yeah”, he murmured, as they start back down the corridor._

_Her world was filled with silence. The only sounds to disturb the daunting vacuum were the echoing clicks of their shoes and the agitated rustle of cloth._

_“Deej?”_

_They didn’t stop again, but she turned towards him. The arm she had released seemed to have developed a nervous twitch, and the hand kept clenching and unclenching beneath the ragged cuff of his jacket._

_“I know it’s not far now, but…” He never looked towards her, but he must have noticed her movements. “would you mind taking my arm again?” A light blush crept over his face and tinted the tips of his ears._

_Warmth, slow and pleasant swam through her. It was such a small request, innocent and uncertain, but it spoke greatly of just how important she was to him._

_Gently she laid her hand on his arm, sliding it down the length of his coat sleeve until she found his hand. Fingers entwining, she added pressure briefly._

_She felt the shiver run through him._

_“Just keep the bruising to a minimum, alright?”  His laughter sounded forced._

_She would have laughed too, but it would only have sounded harsh, so she simply let her other hand clasp onto his bicep and pulled herself closer._

_Closing her eyes, she let herself savor the moment. Every anxious, heavily weighted moment was precious to her._

_She wanted to remember…_

_To remember the feel of him beside her; the gentle pressure of his fingers clasping hers, the way his warmth seeped into her chilled skin, how his scent seemed to surround her, the strength that lay hidden beneath the travel-worn layers of tattered regalia._

_Laying her head down on his shoulder she smiled, remembering how unsettled he’d been when the Queen had offered to replace the well-worn garment._

_His determined refusal had left him flushing scarlet and the Queen momentarily unsettled._

_DG had just been grateful that he had refused._

_She’d become so lost in the moment, that the fact that Glitch had stopped walking hadn’t fully registered when she found herself whirled around. She barely managed to register the anxious ‘watch out!’ that he mumbled before she found herself nose to neck with her companion, one arm still entwined with his, while the other clutched at his lapel trying to restore her balance._

_“I thought I was supposed to be the clumsy one,” he chuckled easily, and she could feel his breath ghosting against her forehead._

_“Deej?” he tried again when she couldn’t find her tongue._

_She had to physically keep herself from shivering at the airy caress._

_“We’re here.”_

_If she hadn’t still been clutching him, she imagined she would have crumpled right then. She wanted to. Wanted to let her knees shatter and her legs collapse under her fears and selfishness…. But… she wouldn’t do that to him._

_She sighed. “I suppose it was bound to happen…”_

_Finally, she looked up, meeting his eyes. A genuine smile lit her face at the confusion written on his own._

_“Ready?” she asked_

_\---and there were a million hidden questions in that one word---_

_“Honestly?” he returned_

_\---and a million hidden fears and doubts surfaced in reply---_

_“Yeah.” she lied._

_“No.” he confessed._

_She laughed, he smiled… and neither of them made a move to separate._

_The intrusive tweak of metal and ominous groan of wood was the only warning as the one of the large double doors opened._

_“Mr. Ambrose, sir?” a nasally voice inquired, and DG wondered how the speaker managed to sound both proud and ingratiating at the same time._

_Reluctantly she let both her hands lose purchase, letting them fall away from him as Glitch stepped forward._

_“I’m him… or… uh, I will be.”_

_She couldn’t help but smile as she turned around._

_“Of course,” the man replied, a pleasant smile spread awkwardly over his face. “If you’re ready, then, sir, we can begin the preparations.”_

_Glitch nodded before turning back to her and she felt more than saw the glance the other man’s gaze cut towards her._

_“I’ll leave the door open, shall I?” She heard him whisper in a knowing tone that she supposed he thought understanding, as he slipped back through the opening._

_She wanted to strangle him._

_Something must have shown on her face because Glitch chose that moment to reassure her that ‘everything would be fine’._

_Watching him, she wondered if it_ was _only her he was trying to reassure, or if he was reassuring himself as well. She nodded because she couldn’t muster a smile._

_“Well… Wish me luck!” he said a little too cheerful, and turned toward the door, a little too quick._

_She hadn’t realized she reached out until she felt the jolt, as he was forced to stop. He turned and they both stared at her hand in confusion. It was fisted tight in the material of his cuff, knuckles blanching white against the faded brown._

_She managed to glance up briefly but had quickly decided that the ground was a far safer study._

_His eyes had been on her hand, studying it and the cuff of his jacket with an intense curiosity; she hadn’t minded that - she was intrigued as well. What had made her drop her eyes so quickly was the vague traces of understanding that swam at the edges of his gaze - russet and brown bleeding together._

_She felt the material under her hand pull and shift before going slack, watched as the tails drew together and made their way forward._

_He took it off!!_

_It was all that she could think about, as she watched the coattails and legs move closer to her._

_He took it off!!_

_The phrase repeating over and over, growing shriller and shriller in her head, as she felt him press the heavy material into her arms._

_He took it off!!_

_And now it rested, warm and heavy in her arms, and she couldn’t feel anything else. Just the heavy weight of what he had done._

_“Hold on to it for me…”_

_She looked up to find him smiling, looking small and vulnerable in only his silly striped undershirt and wrinkled off-white button-up. The stark color making him paler in the dim lighting of the corridor._

_“For me, Deej...”_

_She wanted to cry. She wanted to shove the damn thing back at him, make him take it with him. It was so much a part of him, part of the man she had come to know._

_If it was with him, he’d remember, right?  He’d come back._

_She simply held it tighter._

_“Keep it safe...”_

_She could hear the uncertainty lacing his voice again. They both knew the risks._

_He needed her to take it as much as she wanted him to keep it… because they both knew what could happen._

_She wanted to make him take it back, but she couldn’t…  because it_ was _so much a part of him. And she_ wanted. _Wanted one thing to keep, one part of him to hold onto - needed something of him that would remind her of who they were - or, who they had been…_

_“You’re just afraid the cleaning staff will take it when you’re not looking.”_

_It was weak, but it made him laugh, and that was all that mattered._

_“I’ll be back for it…”_

_She wanted to believe him… told herself she did._

_“Just wait and see!”_

_She’d have to. She had no choice but to wait._

_Still, there was laughter in his eyes and confidence in his smile._

_She wanted to believe that those things would make a difference. Later she imagined she would tell herself that. Believe it. But, right now, looking at him, all she could see was everything she wanted._

_Everything she could lose..._

_“Trust me, Doll.”_

_\---_

_\---_

_\---_

A pale hand slipped from the warm, faded cloth; delicate fingers splayed against her own lips, tracing the familiar outline.

 

She’d never forget those last moments.

 

She still didn’t remember having moved, didn’t remember the decision that brought her against him, but she knew it had been her and not him. She didn’t mind, really, because what she did remember was enough. She remembered the cool press of his lips against hers, their dry, chapped friction, and the soft, tangled give of his hair at the nape of his neck, where her free hand had found purchase.

 

Even now she could feel the heat of his body, recall the scent of sandalwood, and imagine the lingering taste of butter on his lips…

 

…

…

…

 

_It seemed an eternity that they had stood like that, with her lips insistent but chaste against his. She held him to her as time fluttered past on uncertain wings and waited. She waited for some form of response. Acceptance? Rejection? Humor? Indignation?_

_She waited for something… anything but the statuesque lack of response he was giving her._

_Second by second her hope floundered, and nothing hurt so much as the growing space between them when she finally began to retreat. She remembered the almost painful press of her eyelids as she kept them closed, and the too humid heat of the space between their lips._

_The air tasted stale, she’d thought, and the grief she’d been hold onto so desperately welled up inside her - it pressed against her chest, clutched at her throat._

_She choked on it, even as she fought to step away, the sound wet and desperate._

_Then her world had tilted. Focused. Narrowed._

_He was holding her against him, clutching her to him as if nothing else in the world mattered. His arms locked around her, molding her against him to the point where she swore, she could actually feel his heartbeat fluttering in counterpoint against her own. One pale hand reached up to tangle itself in her hair while the other fisted the material of her shirt at the small of her back._

_His lips were back… still cool, still dry, still chapped, but no longer stiff from shock. They pressed against hers with a desperation that seemed to echo her own and when she gasped softly - part joy, part pain - his mouth moved to plunder hers._

_She held on, her hands renewing their purchase. If this was all she might ever have, she’d take everything she could from this moment: the feel of his arms, the scent of his skin, his taste…_

…

…

…

 

It had felt like an eternity, albeit a brief one.

 

She had felt the exact moment he glitched; his body jolting briefly before the muscles went slack and he instinctively pulled back. Like always, his eyes widened with confusion as his consciousness restarted itself and he fought his way back to the moment.

 

She hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry when he introduced himself before the recognition set in, but she hadn’t been able to stop the smile when he’d blushed and pulled the hand that still been holding her waist back to his chest.

 

Before she could think too much about it, she’d closed the distanced and pressed a brief kiss against his lips before stepping back and looking at the still open door.

 

_“Don’t forget to come back for it” she’d said._

-Don’t forget to come back to me- she’d meant.

Then she’d watched with a soft kind of hope as the shocked look on his face melted into a pleased smile. She watched as he moved towards the door, stopping before he stepped through.

_“I’ll be back for it.”_

She still remembered the warm look in his eyes when he turned back to her before closing the door.

 

_“I’ll keep it safe,” she’d whispered to the empty corridor._

And she had kept it safe.

 

For three weeks she had kept it safe, waiting for him to come back for it…  for her, but he never did. She’d waited every day since he’d been released from the medical wing, but he never asked.

 

She couldn’t be completely sure because her memories often seemed blurred and incomplete when she remembered them, but from what she could guess from them, Ambrose seemed to slide right back into his place at the palace as though the last several annuals had never taken place. He rarely seemed to leave the queen’s side, except for the hours he spent in his rooms and laboratory, but when she did see him it threatened to break her heart.

 

The man that wore Glitch’s face now was distant and polite, extremely formal and quite shy in most respects. Ambrose was impeccably neat and well kempt and moved with a graceful confidence that she had only seen glimpses of in her friend. He rarely spoke to her, but when he did it was always “Princess” this and “Your highness” that.

 

It tore at her heart the one time she’d suggested he simply call her Deej. The slightly terrified look on his face convinced her not to bring the subject up again.

 

Still, she’d held out hope for days on end. There were moments when she could almost convince herself that Glitch was still there somewhere - a confused pause in conversation, an unexpected laugh, or brief moments of clumsiness. While it was definitely calmer and more orderly than before, Ambrose had kept his hair in a similar state of curly disarray - she’d never gotten the courage to ask him why though.

 

Of course, the most important support of her hope had been the fact that while he had returned to a more formal state of dress, he hadn’t yet replaced the coat yet. He’d taken to wearing only starched white shirts and so she waited for him to remember.

 

She had been so sure that he would remember, that he’d find his way back and come ask her for it one day.

 

Even if he never remembered completely, just knowing he remembered the coat - remembered the significance of it, would have been enough.

 

And then one day, two weeks and five days after his surgery, he came down to breakfast wearing a brand-new coat. It seemed he had at least tried to keep the cut similar to his old uniform, but though brown, this one was darker than the one that hung on her mirror, and the lining and trim were black with bright silver buttons.

 

He looked well in it was the only thought she allowed herself before she stood abruptly from the table, her chair clattered backwards noisily in her haste. She could feel the hot burn of tears behind her eyes and her breath catch painfully in her chest as she turned her face away from the hateful piece of clothing and faced her mother.

 

Her mother had been taken aback by her sudden desire to visit Finaqua. It had been rather sudden after all, and she doubted anyone had missed the harsh tone of her voice or the sheen of tears she refused to let fall. Still, she’d been given permission and the lost look that wrinkled Ambrose’s forehead as she took her leave from the table strengthened her conviction and straightened her spine.

 

If he could so easily forget then so could she.

 

She spent the entire journey to Finaqua telling herself exactly that. Of course, the very first morning she’d felt the cool, clean air coming off the lake and the wash of memories that came with it, she’d known it wouldn’t be possible.

 

Truth was, after the first few days of denial and self-indulgent anger, she didn’t really mind.

 

It had simply become a fact of her world.

 

_“Trust me, Doll.”_

She did. She _still_ did. How could she not, after everything they’d been through together?

 

Trusting him was like breathing - essential, instinctive.

 

So, she’d wait.

 

Wrapping herself in the familiar warmth and scent, drenched in the memories she wouldn’t let go if she could, she’d wait.

 

She’d wait because she never had any other option.

 

_He_ trusted _her_.

 

And she’d be there when he came back.

 

_“Deej!”_

 

And he always came back…

 

**__________________________________________-**

**Thanks for reading!**


End file.
